


Never Enough

by BeatriceMacbeth



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I thought we all needed some fluff post-election, Innuendo, Post-DNC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 08:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8659636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriceMacbeth/pseuds/BeatriceMacbeth
Summary: The hotel they’re staying in in Philadelphia is roughly the same as every hotel room they’ve stayed in for the last ten months - neutral colours, expensive flowers, lighting that isn’t conducive to reading as much as she needs to read.





	

The hotel they’re staying in in Philadelphia is roughly the same as every hotel room they’ve stayed in for the last ten months - neutral colours, expensive flowers, lighting that isn’t conducive to reading as much as she needs to read. Bill is gazing, unfocused, around the room from his position on the bed, while his wife chatters at him from the shower. She is high from her speech to the DNC, and he’s enjoying listening to her words spilling from the open bathroom door as quickly as the thoughts can occur to her. He is smiling softly to himself as he listens to her voice and the patter of the water tumbling over her. He hears her turn the faucet and the patter of the water ceases.   
There is a rustle, and when she steps out of the bathroom she is wrapped in a plush white towel, fluffing out her hair. His lips kick up into a broader smile, and hers mirror his. “What?” She queries, gaze pointed.  
“I’m sad I missed your showercap, that’s all.”   
“I’ll throw it at you if you’re not careful.” She retorts.   
“Well that’s an idea...” He drawls, clearly aiming for a double entendre even though she can’t work out what on earth the innuendo might be.  
Hillary shakes her head while she reaches for the simple white dress hanging in the wardrobe. She can feel her husband’s eyes on her, running over her exposed limbs. As much as she wants to ignore the sensation of it, she can’t seem to even after all these years, the pleasant prickling on her skin.   
“I’d tell you to take a picture but I know you would.” She jokes as she dries herself off.  
“Oh, I definitely would. Can I?”  
She shoots him an affectionate glare. “Don’t you dare.”  
Bill beams at her, blue eyes shining with mischief. “Well then at least let me have a proper look.”   
“You’ve been looking for years.” She retorts as she steps into her underwear.   
“And I still can’t seem to get enough...” His voice rumbles through his chest, and Hillary’s resolve starts to wane. She guides her dress up over her hips before crossing the room and bending to kiss him deeply.   
“You’re impossible.” She chides.  
“Insatiable?” He teases.   
Hillary turns on her heel. “Are you going to help me with my zip, or not?”   
“I’d rather not, in all honesty.” Her husband replies, but he rises to help her nonetheless. Bill dips his hands beneath the fabric of her dress, runs long fingers over her waist. Hillary shivers slightly under his touch, even after all this time, and waits for him to zip her as she’s requested. He begins to do so, chasing his fingertips up her spine in the process, and drops his head to run his lips over her bare shoulder, tongue flitting out to taste her skin. Hillary is restless already from the adrenaline coursing through her; a few more well calculated moves and she will have given up entirely on the idea of her own celebratory dinner. Bill’s teeth sink into her flesh and she is ready to reach for her phone and beg off the event on the grounds of ‘exhaustion’. Bill gleans this from the whimper that escapes her and then, satisfied with the job he’s done of frustrating his wife, finishes zipping her dress and steps back to take her in. By then Hillary has little else on her mind than the man at hand. She turns before him and takes his hands in hers, bringing one to her lips.   
“You know, we could be a bit late...” She suggests, pressing his index finger to her lips before taking it into her mouth.   
Bill groans softly, but resists. “Sweetheart, how many times do you get to celebrate being the Democratic Party’s presidential nominee?”  
“Twice.” She grins, his finger still caught between her teeth. Her husband beams at her proudly.   
“Yes, but that’s still only two days out of - ”  
“If you tell me how many days old I am, William, I swear to all that’s holy - ”  
Bill laughs at her, that throaty rumble that she’s always loved. “That’s not the kind of thing I’d usually calculate on the spot.” He mollifies, even though the quick estimate he’s done in his head (around 25,000) is pretty close.  
“Good.” Her tone is sharp, but he doesn’t place much stock in the warning it holds. “You’re really not going to indulge me, are you?” She queries after considering him for a long moment.  
“I always indulge you. I’m just not going to let you miss your own dinner.” He kisses the bridge of her nose. “Because I know in hindsight you’d think it was a very bad decision.”   
Hillary curves her palm around his cheek and kisses him tenderly. “Lots of my decisions are bad when it comes to you.” Another quick peck. “I mean, lots of them.”  
Bill clasps his hands around her back, pulling her flush against him and mumbling “And I hope that’s a trend that continues for many years to come,” before kissing her deeply.   
“Depends how early you get me back to the hotel tonight.”


End file.
